


Tea and Takeaway

by stripyjumpers



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Cuddles, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, M/M, Movie Night, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2016-06-27
Packaged: 2018-07-18 14:43:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7319314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stripyjumpers/pseuds/stripyjumpers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John has been working himself ragged as of late, and so Sherlock plans a relaxing evening to help him wind down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tea and Takeaway

**Author's Note:**

> This is just some cuddly uni!lock fluff :)

By the time John reached the final step to the flat, he was exhausted. The bag over his shoulder felt like it was filled with cement, threatening to weigh him down completely if he didn’t continue moving.

Sighing heavily, John opened the door to he and Sherlock’s flat, wanting nothing more than to melt into his bed and sleep for an entire year, but he knew that he still had work to do.

John stepped wearily into the tiny kitchenette just off the entryway and tossed his heavy bag carelessly onto the floor. He began rummaging through the cupboards immediately, desperate for something quick but filling so that he could eat and start his work as soon as possible. He was so wrapped up in digging for a suitable snack that it wasn’t until he turned his head to shout at Sherlock about their lack of proper food in the house that he noticed all the changes in the sitting room.

John’s jaw went slightly slack as he took in the sight before him. Their normally tattered, sagging sofa was now covered in what looked to be just about every blanket that the two of them owned. There were pillows piled up by the arms of the sofa and all across the back, and sitting on one of the cushions was a pair of John’s pyjamas; the ones he would wear when he had nothing planned and intended to relax all day.

He walked slowly to get a better look at everything, still not entirely convinced that this wasn’t all some strange experiment of Sherlock’s. On the coffee table he saw two containers of takeaway food, their two favourite mugs, and a stack of DVD’s. The lamps on the end tables were dimmed, making everything appear softer and warmer, and although John wasn’t sure what this whole thing was, he felt a burst of happiness in his chest at the sight.

John was smiling to himself when he heard familiar footsteps behind him. He turned to look at Sherlock, who was dressed in an oversized jumper and what looked to be a pair of John’s pyjama bottoms that came up a little short on his legs.

“Sherlock, what is all this?” John asked, gesturing to the setup next to him.

Sherlock shrugged. “Our sitting room?”

“No, seriously,” John chuckled. “What’s this for?”

“For you, obviously.”

“For me?”

“Yes, John, you know how I loathe repeating myself.”

“But what’s the occasion? Have I forgotten my own birthday?”

“No. The occasion is that it’s Friday night and you’re exhausted. Now come on, the takeaway’s getting cold,” Sherlock said, tugging gently on John’s wrist to steer him towards the sofa.

“Wait, hang on,” John protested before they could move much further.

“What? Do you not like it?” Sherlock asked, concern suddenly clouding his eyes.

“No, I love it,” John reassured. He looked around the room, biting his lip and looking at all the effort and time that must have gone into planning this evening. “I guess I just…don’t understand.”

“What’s not to understand? You’ve been working an ungodly amount of hours recently and it’s making you miserable. I wanted to help. Is that…not good?”

John smiled warmly at Sherlock and took his hand, squeezing it gently. “It’s very good, it’s bloody amazing,” he said. “You even got my favourite movies.”

“Then what’s the matter?”

John rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “You- you didn’t have to go through all this trouble for me. I don’t—“

“Oh, no, none of that,” Sherlock said decisively. He walked over to the sofa, gathered up John’s pyjamas and practically shoved them into John’s arms. “Go get changed, forget about your schoolwork, and come watch terrible films and eat takeaway with me.”

John laughed softly and wrapped an arm around Sherlock’s neck, pulling him in close. “I love you, you bloody git,” he said. He gave him a quick peck on the cheek before heading to the loo to change.  “And the movies are not terrible!” he shouted.

John changed into his PJs with a smile, thinking that this evening was exactly what he needed. But his smile soon faded as he thought about the biology exam he had coming up on Monday, and the extra shifts he’d been given at work, and the paper that he’d only written about a third of. There was still so much to do, and he only had so much time to do it.

Staring at himself in the mirror, John was a picture of a cozy evening in. He was clad in a soft grey sweatshirt and some plaid pyjama bottoms, but his clothes were definitely not a reflection of his current mood. He took a deep breath and hoped he’d be able to get his mind off of all of his responsibilities for long enough to enjoy himself.

Walking back into the sitting room, John was stopped short when Sherlock stood in front of him and planted both his hands on either side of John’s face.

“Stop that,” Sherlock said.

“Stop what?”

“I could hear you overthinking from out here. You deserve to relax, John.”

John put his smaller hands atop Sherlock’s and gently squeezed the other man’s fingers.

“Thank you,” he said, taking one of Sherlock’s hands in his and planting a kiss on his palm.

John could see Sherlock’s cheeks flushing a light pink as he led him to the sofa.

As soon as he sat down on the plush, warm blankets, John could feel the weight of the day practically melting off of him. He couldn’t help but feel a little silly, though, like he was attending some sort of slumber party similar to the ones that his sister would have when they were younger. But John set aside his slight embarrassment for now and wriggled himself back into the pillows in an attempt to get as comfortable as possible. Sherlock had put this all together for him, had put off his own obligations for the night, and so he was going to try to enjoy every minute of it. 

“Comfortable?” Sherlock asked, staring at him with a hint of smugness.

“I am, actually. So, what terrible film are we watching first?”

Sherlock reached over to the coffee table and grabbed the first movie on the pile before getting up to put it in the player. He waved the DVD case behind him to show John as he was setting it up.

“I figured we’d start with Bond; he seems to be a favourite of yours at the moment. “

“And how do you know that?”

“You always leave a DVD lying around after you watch one. It’s hardly a challenge to work out what your current obsessions are.”  

“Hm, I’ll give you that, yeah. You’re not going to comment on every aspect of the film as we watch it, are you?”

“Of course I am. Where would be the fun be if I didn’t?”

John laughed. “Just making sure. It wouldn’t be the same without it.”

Sherlock chuckled to himself as the movie started. He went into the kitchen and made them their tea before settling himself back into the sofa and reaching for his takeaway box.

“I got Chinese,” he said. “That things with the noodles that you like.”

“You know me so well,” John teased, opening up his container. The warm steam and familiar smell of the food made John’s chest swell with happiness.

John snuggled a little closer to Sherlock and properly tucked in to his dinner. He rested his cheek on Sherlock’s shoulder; a warm, solid weight to lean on as he watched the movie. 

After John was finished with his food, he tidied up the coffee table a bit and turned the lights all the way off so that the only light in the room was coming from the television screen. He grabbed one of the many blankets surrounding him and Sherlock and pulled it up over their laps.

John couldn't help his grin as Sherlock wrapped an arm around him and pulled him in close. He wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s waist and nuzzled into his chest, feeling more relaxed than he had in weeks.

As the movie went on, John’s eyes grew pleasantly tired, and he sank into an almost dreamlike state where there was nothing but soft and warm and calm.

When the movie came to an end and the credits began to roll, John blinked rapidly as if only just remembering that the movie was eventually going to be over. 

Sherlock very carefully extracted himself from John’s hold to put the next film in, and John frowned slightly at the loss of contact. He stared at the now empty space next to him and thought about how the night was almost over, and the next morning would be back to how things usually were. He’d have to get up early and try to plan out his day in a way that would allow him to get the most amount of work done.

John tried to remember at what point weekends stopped being fun. He had always been accustomed to having a heavy workload, but this year in particular seemed to just get busier and busier. Perhaps John had finally taken on too much; perhaps he’d overestimated how much he could handle. But there wasn’t anything to be done for it now; the end of the year would be coming up soon and he couldn’t simply back out of his responsibilities.

John was startled out of his thoughts when Sherlock decided to plop himself back down next to him. John wasn’t looking at him, but he could just feel his all-knowing gaze boring into the back of his head.

“You’re overthinking again,” Sherlock stated.

John turned to look at him and sighed. “How can I not, Sherlock? I have a lot to do. I was supposed to be working on my paper tonight, and I’m gonna have to get to the library tomorrow to get this bloody book for the research I have to do, and—“

“John.”

“And I’ll have to get there before my shift ‘cause if I don’t, it’ll be closed by the time I leave work, which means—“

“John,” Sherlock repeated.

“What?”

“Look at me.”

John bit the inside of his cheek and looked up at Sherlock.

“What do you always tell me when I stay up too late working on cold cases?” Sherlock asked.

John turned away and shook his head, laughing bitterly.

“What do you always tell me?” Sherlock asked again.

“That you’re not going to be able to focus if you’re running on three hours of sleep,” John answered.

“Exactly. You’re always going on about how I need to ‘rest’ and ‘recharge’ or whatever it is that normal people do, but you’ve practically turned into _me_ with the hours you’ve been keeping lately.”

John laughed under his breath. “Well we can’t have that, can we?”

“No, we can’t _both_ be up until three a.m. You’d be too tired to make me breakfast in the morning.”

“Very funny,” John said, clapping Sherlock playfully on the shoulder.  “But yeah, I know you’re right; I need to just take it easy, I guess. I’m sure I can figure out a way to get things done without driving myself mad.”

“I’m sure you can, too. Now come here, I’ll pet your hair in that way you like and we’ll see how many plot holes I can find in this next film.”

Sherlock held his arms out invitingly and John cuddled in close, pulling their blanket back up over them. He’d never imagined that one day it would be Sherlock telling him not to overwork himself, but the man was right; he wasn’t going to be able to focus on his work if he didn’t find time to relax.

He leaned his head back to rest on Sherock’s shoulder and let out a contented sigh the moment Sherlock’s fingers touched his hair. Sherlock ran his long fingers ever so slowly over John’s scalp, scratching lightly as he went. He started at the top of John’s head and worked his way down, giving him little scratches on the way back up and making pleasant chills trickle down John’s spine.

“Mm, s’nice,” John mumbled sleepily. 

Sherlock gave a noncommittal hum of approval, likely already absorbed in the movie in his quest to find its mistakes.

“Thank you for tonight, Sherlock. I needed it,” John said quietly. “No one’s ever done anything like this for me before,” he admitted, almost to himself.

“That’s because people are idiots,” Sherlock stated.

John giggled and nuzzled his face into the soft cotton of Sherlock’s shirt.

“I love you,” he murmured, feeling his eyelids becoming heavy.

“I love you too, John. Go to sleep. I’ll be here.”  

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Feedback is always appreciated! ^^


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